


The Twisted Affairs Of Kent Nelson

by Lawfuless



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Character Death, Comedy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:33:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lawfuless/pseuds/Lawfuless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(A bunch of short drabbles to be written on a whim when I'm not writing other stories.)</p><p>1. Like Cinderella To The Ball (Lex/Kent)<br/>2. Forget and Remember (Alan/Kent)<br/>3. Blood Right (Thaal/Kent)<br/>4. Love and Loss (Jay/Kent) (Past Hal/Kent)<br/>5. Bar Hopping (Clark/Kent/Bruce)<br/>6. Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves (Jim/Kent)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Cinderella To The Ball (Lex/Kent)

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my sister, who inspired me to join the Archive and get back into writing. As well, who stayed with me-- even when the ships got weird.  
> Own nothing, blah blah blah.

It wasn't an intentional thing to do. It was merely that only a few days before the agreed upon truce and celebration that always happened every year, a couple of lesser daemons got into the tower and wrecked the place before he caught them and banished them.

Unfortunately for him, the dry cleaners AND the tailors were all booked solid. Every suit store he tried was sold out or rented out.

It was at the third shoe store that had shrugged at the magi's attempts to buy one of the few pairs left that deliverance came in an unlikely form.

"You seem to be having trouble finding what you're looking for." Lex Luthor commented off-handedly from where he was inspecting ties.

The blond looked over, slicking back his slightly fussed hair. "I need a suit three days from now, as I.... Well, there was an incident at home that resulted in the damaging of my only good one. And because of the whole ball-thing with the heroes and villains...." he trailed off and sighed. "Probably will have to see if I can't sew one together in time."

Luthor looked him over, tilting his head slightly. "In three days it will be the superhero and super-villain ball.... How convenient." Remarked the self-proclaimed genius. Nonetheless, he decided to add to that thought. "How about I make you a deal. I know someone who's about your size I would like some clothing modeled for. You do that for me, I'll have my tailor make you a suit." he stated.

The hero blinked, eyes widening. "Huh? R-really? I... If you don't mind, I wouldn't be opposed to that." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck a bit flustered in embarrassment. Did pike his curiosity, though. Someone his size? Clothing? But he wouldn't ask. No need to pry.

So he got what he needed and went along with the other, slightly inhaling when he had to enter the limo- really now, that was showing off- alongside the other. He kept his head down, fiddling with the fine silk tie.

"You know, I find it rather interesting. There are few who could afford something like that, and yet you don't seem too well off. An in between of wealthy but not enough for infamy."

He considered his reply, before glancing over. "I have a minor amount of money, left to me in a will. Kind of a safety net for when my shop doesn't quite make enough. Before you ask, no you wouldn't have heard of it. It's an occult, book and herbal remedy shop down in Salem. Witchcraft, Writing and Wellbeing."

A raised brow. "Interesting tastes. I take it you know Faust then." he noted, receiving a chuckle and a soft 'Who doesn't?' before he continued. "Well, it seems interesting enough. Suitably, the one who I'm having the clothes made for is into magic as well. ...Would you happen to know any symbols for perhaps protection or well being?" he queried.

"Er, I do... I could probably give you a list of them with their meanings." he offered, bewildered by the question. More questions were raised by this line of conversation. Someone his size, who needed clothing, who was into magic, and could do with protection or well being? What were the odds. Still, there were countless heroes and villains who could have fit that bill. Or it may have been a civilian. Or a Magi, for that matter. He wouldn't look into it any further.

They soon arrived, and Kent was whisked away to the tailor. As he did his work for the lower half, Kent doodled symbols on a tablet he had been offered by the taller man, explaining them as he went and making sure to write notes next to them about placement and the like. Then he handed it over and let the tailor do the top half. He tried on several things at the other's suggestion, making a face at a few of the items of clothing.

He left soon after with the note that it would be shipped to his shop in two days when it was finished. He thanked the two profusely before heading out.

He arrived at the ball, tugging at the tie. A bit too tight. Nabu had said he should have gone with a half-Windsor, rather than the full one. Still, he wanted to look his best. He had an image, a reputation. As much as he hated it, he had to play the role.

He was soon approached by a familiar face. Lex. The other paused, looking a bit bewildered. Then, "You're wearing the suit."

"Ah.... I suppose I am." he admitted, flushing beneath the helm. Caught in the act. Well, it didn't matter much. His civilian identity wasn't much of a secret, and it wasn't as though Luthor knew him by name. "I very much thank you for the assistance.... Imps in the tower."

Luthor looked him over appraisingly, then frowned, tugging at a sleeve. Too loose. "Well, at least you won't have to worry as much about this one...." Then he used it to lead the other away from the party. "Well, seeing as you've already taken to wearing my clothes-" a deeper flush and a minor protest "-You might as well get the rest. I've taken an interest in you. For whatever reason, you're more interesting than the other dolts, and I want to know why. So, consider this an invitation."

When they reached his car, he was given a handful of bags, then left behind. He peaked inside to find the clothing he had tried on, and a note for a lunch date. But what truly caught his eye...

"He got me lingerie?"


	2. Forget and Remember (Alan/Kent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they're betrayed, Alan gets hit the hardest. It's up to him to repair the shattered man he once knew.

My name is Kent Nelson. Of this I am certain. The rest is all a blur. I think I might have died once. I recall feeling cold for a very long time. Then warmth... Green. Lots of it.

There are people here. I feel like I should know them. They hold me in a chair, show me a picture of a man. I know him. His name is Alan. He is Green. Green is good.

They tell me I need to hurt him. Because he's doing bad things. But I can't. That I feel deep in my bones. Anyone. Anyone but him.

My name is Kent Nelson. This.... I am fairly certain. At least, I recall hearing the name associated with myself. They speak it now, the people keeping me in this chair.

The people show me a picture. I know him. Alan. I know him in a way I don't know anyone else, or even myself. He is green, and the green has always been good.

They want me to stop him. I have to, if I want to get out of here. But I can't do that. He is not who they think he is. I tell them this. Anyone but him.

My name is Kent. I know that much. Probably. Things are rather hazy. This feels like deja vu. I am in a chair, and there are people showing me a picture.

It's Alan. It always is. That much I recall. I know him. I know him better than anyone else. And yet they tell me to attack him. Hurt him. But I wouldn't. The green is good. Don't they know this yet?

They demand now. They tell me I have to. And I tell them- Again. Again and again and again- that I can't. I can't hurt him. ANYONE ELSE. Anyone but him.

My name... I don't remember it anymore. It's been going on too long. This interrogation. They have me in this chair. I try to struggle, anything to stop the repetition. No good.

They show me a picture. Alan. I know him. Green. I wish he were here. He could stop this. ....Maybe the gold could too. But I'm not gold anymore. I'm... I don't know.

They want me to hurt Alan. They want me to stop him from doing bad. They want me to be gold. But I can't. I tell them this. Anyone but him.

I don't remember who I am. I was once someone. Someone important. With a face recognizable. With a background. Now all I am is this thing in a chair.

The picture. Alan. He is the only thing I remember. This is the one constant I know.

They want him dead. But I can't hurt him. Anyone but him.

Alan. Alan is all I remember. The thing I'm in.... I don't recall what it is. A... Chair? I don't....

Picture. Alan. I know him. Alan. They want him gone.

Anyone but him.

Anyone...

Alan.

* * *

 "Stop it!" Jay ripped the device from Thomas' hand. The blond was nearly comatose. All he did was shake his head and mumble something that sounded like Alan. Kent Nelson was gone.

Carter was trying to reason with the speedster. Doctor Fate was their only option. But Jay just shook his head, gesturing to their friend. The person that had been their friend. "Look at him. At what we've done."

Hawkman shook his head. "We have no other options. We have to do this. Doctor Fate is our only chance." he asserted.

The blond was barely able to look over, squinting at them. Perhaps wondering if he even knew them. Jay felt horrible, so he undid the restraints and lifted him to the protest of the other two.

"No. I'm taking him to a room so he can lie down. We'll talk about this later, but this isn't happening."

* * *

 My name... Kent Nelson. This is what Jay Garrick has told me. I am in bed, resting, because this is what I was told I should do. I have been sleeping for three days.

Thomas Wayne and Carter Hall are upset at me. I cannot help them, and that makes me useless to them. They said I have failed the world. Jay remains optimistic that Alan can be stopped nonviolently.

If it were so.... I would agree to whatever was asked of me. I don't remember why Alan was special to me. But I care about him. Deeply. Jay says that that's normal. We had a bond no one understood but us.

Jay leaves for the first time in several days. Says something's up and runs out. He knows things I don't. That I might have once known.

For once, I'm able to rest. It's only when I wake up that I discover why. Thomas had stopped coming to make the same requests, and when I searched for him, I found a twisted, mangled corpse.

Carter was with him when I stumbled across them. Was being the keyword. As I looked on, his neck was snapped by the man in green.

Alan.

* * *

Kent, in hospital-like garb, swayed in the doorway, looking on to the site as though surprised. Perhaps shock? No... He seemed more bewildered that Hawkman was dead. He looked to me, blinking, breath caught in his throat.

Jay showed up before I could speak. One of my own, embedded within as a spy, to watch after the dear Doctor. To keep him safe.

Ever since Thomas Wayne began funding criminal means, deciding that in order for heroes to exist that there must be villains of equal level, I had begun monitoring everyone and everything to get a better scope.

When Kent had gone missing, I quickly figured it out. So I had Jay check into it. They had been trying to forcibly wipe his mind so they would have a tool to use against me. They knew how I felt.

I gathered up the other, scooping him into my arms whilst hushing any protest- "We'll speak later, Kent."- and turning to Jay who grimaced at his prevous friend's bodies.

"Did you have to kill them?" He asked as we exited, him running and myself flying. I assured him that I did. If not Kent, they would go after others. This needed to end, and Thomas Wayne was too powerful.

Reluctant agreement was all I could get out of Jay, but it was better than nothing.

Soon we found ourselves at headquarters. A few of the nearby heroes looked over but soon looked away. It was hard to see Kent like that. I of all people would know.

We made our way to the medical wing. The nurse looked concerned, but maintained her rationality as I set him down onto one of the beds. Then I led Jay outside.

"What did they do?" I had to know. I had to find out why Kent Nelson was in such rough shape. Why he was the way he was.

Jay looked down, shaking his head. "Thomas wiped his mind dozens of time. He... Forgot everything. Except you. They tried to have him kill you. But he wouldn't. They wiped him just about blank, but he refused.... He still cares about you."

I rubbed at my jaw. "I'll take care of him, then. ...You can continue in my stead. I trust you, Jay, and I know you'll lead them well. But I... I need to look after him" It stung deep to know that everything that had once been my dearest friend was gone.

I waited until the nurse was done, and then stayed with him. He looked rather fragile and delicate in the bed, and I wished I could have just restored him as simply as I did my age. He was just sleeping for now, though. The only word I could make out...

"Alan."

* * *

I woke in an unfamiliar room, with unfamiliar people. The only one I recognized was Him. The photographs. The chair. The Green. Alan. He was protesting with the others, who wanted him to leave. He'd been there for a week, and needed to take care of himself.

I slowly pushed myself up, drawing the attention of the room. Rubbing at my eyes, I yawned softly, looking around to try and figure out where I was. In truth, I didn't care much. Alan was there. That was enough. He was there, holding my hand tightly, with such concern and relief marring his expression. As the others left, I couldn't help but reach out to cup his face. "Alan..." I whispered, unable to come up with anything more to say.

"Kent. God... Kent... I've missed you so much... I didn't think I'd ever have you back at my side again... I..." he pulled me into an embrace, shaking. Tears bled through my clothes, and I rubbed his back. Jay did that for me when I cried, and Alan seemed to get better.

He spoke for awhile, at great lengths, explaining everything, telling me about myself, about everyone. It all sounded so fantastical, I found myself caught up in the stories and tales. I was completely enthralled by his words, his descriptions, his passion and the stories themselves.

Then he slipped out a gold ring. An inlaid Emerald was the main feature. "This... Was yours. You were married. In love. ...But if you don't know if you feel the same... No one else knew. We were working up to it before you suddenly vanished." The older blond took my hand, squeezing it tightly before massaging the knuckles.

I thought on it, then took a deep breath, collecting everything I knew and what I had been told. Then I turned to fully face him. "I... Don't remember myself," I began, slowly at first, words were such a fickle thing. "I barely recall my name. There are things I doubt I could ever regain... But there is the one true constant. The one thing I know.... I love you, Alan Scott. And I always will."

He slid the ring on my hand, and smiled, tears anew springing up to his eyes which I wiped away with my thumbs. "I am yours, and you are mine... 'Til death do us part." he murmured softly. "By your side, sickness, health... Down the road to rememberance and recovery. I will be with you every step of the way."

I pulled him in for a brief press of lips, then rested my forehead to his. "Mine... And yours. Forever... My Love. My Life. My Dearest.

Alan."


	3. Blood Right (Thaal/Kent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a 'seer', Kent had gotten used to seeing everything for what it actually is. Up until a surprise shows up, demanding his assistance. It's now up him and the strange Fallen to stop a plot years in the making... Or fail to a deeper plot.

Passing a furred figure down the street, he smiled politely, bowing his head in greeting as the werewolf mailman delivered a parcel to his door.

"Thank you, Hal." he told him, glancing into the reflection that showed him as a cheery brunette with an almost flirtatious smile.

The other gave a half-salute, offering a pen and the paper that needed a signature. Hal was one of his few friends in the monster ridden city, and one of the few who don't quite care that he could see them in their true forms.

Signing with a soft sigh as he realized the sender was Bruce, meaning the police wanted more help, he gave the slip back to Hal and took the package to head inside. Being able to see past the disguises meant he could identify victims and targets. Which the vampire took full advantage of, even if Clark told him off for using Kent's gift like that. He didn't really mind, but he wished he had more warning.

He opened the box, then cringed as he realized it was a head in a box. The reflection made it seem to look like a vampire. One of surprising likeness to Bruce. But looking at it straight on let him see that it was a goblin. He retrieved out his painting supplies, and got to work so he could identify the figure. It was only when he got to the eyes that he came to the chilling realization there was someone behind him.

Jerking around, wielding his brush as a weapon, he came face to face with a demon. And not just any one-- This was Thaal Sinestro, one of the five Demon Lords of the city. Though, his gaze drifted to the large black and yellow wings resting on his back. Sinestro was a Fallen Angel with such a reputation for destruction and brutality that he had been put into the role of Lord without even a vote or consideration. No one even questioned it. At least, Nelson didn't bother with considering it as a question. No, what was on his mind...

"Why are you in my house?"

The other raised an eyebrow, then pushed away the paintbrush. He leaned over to inspect the head, then sneered. "Not to see the Police Chief look-alike." He replied, then gold flickered back to take attention of the seer's own pair, which had since dulled back to blue. "I have business with you of dire importance."

A scoff and a shake of his head. He gestured to the kitchen table where the head sat, then turned back to the easel. "Fine, fine. Sit down and tell me what you need help with, and I'll tell you if my skills are of any use."

The other seemed strongly opposed to that, but did as he asked, if only to improve the chance of the blond assisting him. The magi finished up what he needed to, then set the picture aside so he could deliver it once it was dry. With a wave of his hands, the place tidied up and he sat down opposite the demon.

"I have discovered a plot to kill the mayor by several well known individuals who want to take control and start a war. They plan a coup d'État after that. To take out the king of the neutral zone. They want a war with the Normals, so they can control the world. And they are poised to succeed because they plan on killing the only person who can stop them. You. Being the person I am, I already have contingency plans in place, but you are an unexpected variable. They know without the God's Favor, you can only do healing and barriers. They also know that you can't heal yourself. So, they plan to take your eyes, or kill you. Whichever is the better option. You can see through the planes, identify those who can otherwise go unseen... You're the only thing stopping them, which means you're the one thing I currently care about protecting--"

A finger raised, halting any further talk. "So, you believe that there are a bunch of people trying to kill Clark because they want power? ....And they also want to kill me because I can spy on them? ....And you plan on protecting me on the off chance they decide killing me is the best option. Of course. ...What do you actually get out of this, Sinestro? You don't do this for free, or out of the good of your heart."

The red-skinned figure paused, then smirked. "No one shall rule this world save for me. Besides, I require humans to be living. They thus reproduce and create more souls, more currency, more things to put to work, more minions, more control... I hope that's selfish enough to warrant your assistance. Now, your answer?"

Rubbing at his temples, the blond sighed. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

Sinestro's expression darkened. "I want you to come with me. Keep your eyes open and your chin up. So, shall we?"

-

The blond flushed at the hand on his hip, trying to ignore the Lord's grip, reminding himself it was for the mission. When it shifted slightly over, he slapped him and stomped off, uncaring of the looks it garnered. He also ignored the rich laughter of the demon, who was evidently proud of his work.

Secretly, Sinestro smirked, having found what it was he had been looking for.

-

Sinestro dismissed the corpse, instead grabbing at the soul, holding it tight and close. He smirked down at the figure as the chest heaved and the blond gasped before choking. Blue lips slowly returned to pink, and he looked around, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Glad to see you're awake now. Come on. Get up. We have to finish this."

The blond did as he was told, slowly nodding in agreement. Thaal had to bit back a smirk at the other's unknowing expression. While the Magi lead, he took one more look at the glowing orb in his hand before stashing it away.

-

Gold eyes locked with his own, and he fell to his knees, confused at where the utter lack of will came from. Thaal then presented the soul, smirking proudly down at him. "My dear thrall... I bet you didn't even notice I was controlling you! You're rather dull, sometimes. And yet you have a sort of... allure. Perhaps the immortality? Or the power. Either way, I have owned your soul for a while now, and you never even considered the possibility."

Kent placed a hand on his chest, feeling the hollowness for the first time. He didn't know how he had survived the wound, but he had. And now it made sense. "What.... do you want from me?" he asked, cautious.

Smirking, the demon knelt down to grab his chin, a flash of something sinister on his face. "Simple. I want you to help me take over the world. Perhaps you may even rule at my side."

Even as he was forced to nod, the magi's eyes narrowed in a glare. "Oh, don't be that way Nelson. You know you can't trust a demon! And yet you were so willing... Played right into my hands without me needing to do more than offer a mission. The only threat to the King's throne is myself... And now that I have you? Well... Let's just say, there are worse ways to go."

Beckoned forwards, the blond followed, wondering how he had made such a grievous error. One thing was certain. Death lurked on the horizon, and he would be the cause.


	4. Love and Loss (Jay/Keny)(Past Hal/Kent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rain reminded him of everything he cared about, of everything he wanted in life. And also about how all of that was ruined... And how he gained something new in it's stead.

He had amnesia. A retrograde version of the already hard to handle 'elephant in the room' deal. A complete memory loss that left him without prior knowledge of what he had been.

It had been his fiancée, a youthful brown-haired man named Hal, who told him who he was. Who patiently was there for him, no matter how much he looked liked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Because he loved him. And he loved him too, if only for that.

But it wasn't just that. It was his smile, that lit up the room on fond memories. Or the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he swiped two jellos from the serving trays followed by the press of a finger to a slowly growing smirk.

He found himself falling in love with this man. So when he was ready to be released, he eagerly followed him to the car, and then into the cozy condo they apparently owned. They were greeted by a very happy dog, A German Shepherd he recalled Hal naming 'Green Lantern', with his own cat gaining the moniker of 'Doctor Fate'.

There was many things he liked about this life he had that he couldn't remember enjoying so much. The smell of old things at his store- an occult, used books, antiques and herbal remedy shop-, the feeling of fur between his fingers- and hair, though generally Hal's, which was always soft and silky and mussed from whatever he had been doing to it with his hands or because of the wind or because of... Well, him, and his loving of running hands through the luxurious chesnut locks.

Then there was the rain.

He loved the earthy smell that billowed up after a good storm. He loved watching the sky become dark, and the splatter of wet drops upon the window. He always felt the urge to go outside in the downpour. To spread his arms out to catch the drops further away, or to lay down and let them splatter upon his still form with little care for the dryness of his clothing.

Hal usually dissuaded him, but there had been one event where he had been left to his own devices and headed out. He first spread his arms out and twirled about, smiling and embracing the sensation. Then when he tired, he lay down and stared at the sky, only closing his eyes because of the rain forcing them shut on instinctive defense. He lay outside for several hours until Hal came home.

He was dragged up, pulled inside and wrapped in blankets and towels. Hal yelled at him, and he winced, feeling awful. He didn't mean to make Hal angry. As Hal grumbled away about hypothermia, he shuffled close and embraced his love, promising softly to not go out in the rain again. And when Hal hugged him back tightly, he felt just a bit better.

It was during one storm that he felt horrible. Anxious. He felt like his stomach had dropped, and his heart had been emptied. The terrible-horrible-not-at-all-good feeling ate away at him. And as he left the house in only his pajamas, bare feet pressed into the pavement, he stared at the empty driveway and knew.

Knew that Hal wasn't coming home.

He sat in the rain until the police arrived. They had to take him to the hospital to recover- Hypothermia had indeed set in this time- and to also have him identify the body.

In the heavy deluge, Hal hadn't been able to see the light change to red. The trucker hadn't been able to stop.

He numbly rattled off personal information of Hal's, of himself, until they were satisfied. He wasn't. He was empty. Kent Nelson had died again. And this time, Hal Jordan went with him.

For some time, he remained on the stoop of depression. The scents weren't as lively at his shop. The fur not as pleasant, and the hair gone. And the scent of rain reminded him of death.

He hated storms.

Still, he tried to move on. Went places to meet new people. Tried new things. But everything felt so hollow. So empty. He hurt inside. He felt tired, weighed down by life. Almost gave up several times, but managed to keep going through his memories. Through Hal. His rock. His anchor to reality. His true love.

He never expected to meet anyone like Hal ever again. So when the bartender set a drink that very much wasn't ordered by him, he planned to simply ask it be returned until the other blond winked at him and told him it was on the house for fellows as cute as him.

Jay, as he learned his name was, was as good at listening as he was at charming people. The taller man heard his story and took his hand, gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb in an action that made him feel better, but also turn rather red.

Jay understood his lack of desire to leave when it began to rain, and offered to walk him home. Except he didn't want to go back home. To where the painful memories were. So he instead looked to his newfound friend with slight hesitance as he inquired into staying the night at his place instead.

He wasn't quite sure how he ended up being pinned to a wall, lips moving against his own in sensual motions that drew sounds from his traitorous throat. He felt guilty, so guilty, for indulging in his baser instincts, for allowing Jay to do what he did. But it made him feel whole again. Made him happy.

Their relationship was very tenuous. Jay was always cautious. Wanted the best for him. Jay knew he was still recovering, so even despite their first night together, he moved at a snail's pace. They could both tell he wanted to go faster, but for Kent he slowed himself down.

It was hard not to love Jay.

Over time, they grew closer. They found love. Jay moved in to Hal's room, they got engaged, and then married. 'The Flash' was their new pet ferret, and somehow everything felt right again.

And even if he still found himself staring at the rain, angry even if he sometimes forgot why, he also felt a sort of happiness.

He remembered what he had taken from him... But also what he received in it's place.

Maybe the rain wasn't that bad after all.


	5. Bar Hopping (Bruce/Kent/Clark)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A magic incident leads to interesting results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no explanations, or regrets.

The events leading up to waking up in bed with the famous reporter and world-renown billionare were somewhat hazy in the mind of self-proclaimed nobody Kent Nelson. He vaguely recalled having gone to a gay bar because he felt like having fruity drinks without people giving him funny looks.

It was somewhere between Appletini two and Shirley Temple five that he had found himself suddenly with not one, but two fairly attractive men at either side. And by that time his decision making skills were very compromised, and he was incredibly susceptible to the flirting. Either way, when the offer came to leave with them, he was down.

Waking up with a pounding headache wasn't that new. Not knowing where he was, or who's arms were wrapped around him was a different story. Honestly, he didn't even know Bruce Wayne entered the equation until he glanced away from the reporter Clark Kent and looked up to see out the window at the near perpetual night that overcame the city.

How he got from Salem to Gotham was a question he would save for when he could try to think without giving himself migraine of the century. The good news about being in Gotham was the fact there was no sunlight to stab daggers into his already regret-filled mind or half-lidded eyes.

When he tried to get up, an almost crushing force wrapped tightly around him, forcing him closer to Kent. He wheezed a bit, wondering when the man had found the time to build up that kind of strength, but found himself distracted by the sudden smell of food. A somewhat tall man with black hair and a finely groomed mustache had breakfast enough for three. He set it on the side table, heading out.

A little bit later, Wayne himself arrived and tapped Clark. The other seemed to stir, looking around. He took in the sight of the slightly flattened blond and let go, turning a shade of tomato. "S-sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn't mean--"

Kent waved him off, rolling a bit away to offer some breathing room. Bruce took a seat in the chair by the bed, offering them both plates as they slowly sat up. Clark seemed used to this, so he didn't comment on it. He did, however, get a piece offering in the form of half of a piece of bacon which he accepted with a flush, returning the favor with a breakfast sausage he couldn't eat.

"So, what exactly is a Salem occult book shop owner doing here in Gotham?" Bruce asked, looking up with piercing eyes at Kent. Clark looked back and forth before settling on the blond sharing the bed with him.

Swallowing a piece of egg, Kent considered what to say, then shook his head. "Well, it's occult, used books and herbal remedies. But the answer to that is that I don't... know? I just recall locking up my store for the night and heading to the nearest gay strip club. And after that, it's all a bit... fuzzy. I mean, I kind of remember meeting you? But I don't know how I got here to meet you in the first place. I didn't teleport, that's for sure."

Bruce sent him a look as if he couldn't believe he had just said that aloud, then dismissed it, frowning. "This has happened before. I try to keep tabs on things like this, and this is the fourth or fifth case of people going to that club and ending up in weird places."

Clark nodded. "I entered in Metropolis, intending to investigate. I don't know how I got this drunk. A-and no offense, but I don't often take people home." Which both of them shot him a disbelieving look. But at least that was something.

"Well, I for one will probably be heading back there to see if I can't get home." Nelson stated, planning on getting up until he had to lay back down, feeling incredibly dizzy. "Maybe... Once the world stops spinning like an 33 on a record player." He closed his eyes as he felt finger stroke through his hair, and slowly drifted back to sleep.

When he work up properly, it was late. Around midday. Bruce was there, taking his temperature. "Are you alright?" he asked, and received a nod. "...I'll be serious with you... I know you're a magic user, and I know you weren't acting right yesterday. Why?"

Rubbing at his eyes, Kent let out a low groan. "Right. Made the comment... Honestly, I'm not sure what possessed me to say what I said. However, it was outside influences. Probably a curse. Due to my heightened magical awareness, I don't doubt that I was picking up whatever latent Magicks were in the club. The same ones that brought me here are without a doubt connected to the same ones that left me in that almost drunk, almost high state." he admitted.

"Perhaps you shouldn't go back then." These words were spoken by the man in blue and red who entered through a window left open for him. "I came here as soon as I heard." he added, mostly to Bruce. Kent couldn't stop himself from laughing, considering he knew who both of them really were. And yet they didn't seem to know...

"What do you find so funny?" Bruce demanded, brows furrowing and frown deepening. He looked calculatingly at him, then to Superman, as though trying to gauge the source of his sudden humor and amusement. "There isn't much to laugh about."

"Not to you, perhaps, Batman, but I have a feeling you and Clark here would find it funnier if I let you in on the secret." Both looked stunned, Clark paling. But the blond waved them off. He sat up, then conjuered a portal, pulling out something and putting it on just as he got out of bed. Garbed in his usual attire, Doctor Fate looked at the two, waiting for the proverbial pin to drop.

"Fate? You're-- Oh. Oh, that is kind of funny." Clark admitted, turning somewhat red. Nelson would not admit to doing the same beneath the helm that hid his face. Wayne leaned back, shaking his head.

Slowly standing, he looked to Fate, sighing. "I suppose this is a stroke of luck that we managed to encounter you just when we needed your help. Good or bad luck is the true question, I suppose, all things considered."

"Some would call it Fate." he intoned, trying not to snicker. Because really, Batman was asking for it. And considering he seduce him while he was intoxicated and under magical influences, he had some right to make him suffer with lame jokes.

"Ha. Ha." The detective rolled his eyes while the Man of Steel snorted. "I suppose you'd also say it was Fate we slept with?" Which got a choked, half-assed reply somewhere along the lines of 'Actually, no?' "Or maybe I should start calling your legs Fate, because both are apparently open for me."

Kent had fallen over, choking, mortified to say the least. "My legs are not open for anyone! Let alone you!" He managed to climb to his feet, noting the strange looks on their faces. Well, strange enough to a man who didn't too often have faces around to judge the emotions of.

Bruce was stalking over while Clark was very carefully watching. Adjusting the gold collar of his cloak, the billionare stared him down, forcing him to swallow. "Believe me, if you could properly recall last night, you'd probably be agreeing with me. Besides... I could persuade you in other manners, with other methods."

And he must had still been suffering from the curse, because while he mind had firmly decided 'no', his mouth was already moving to ask the other hero "What other methods?". And he could tell from the smirk that greeted him he was very, very happy to show him exactly what other methods he meant.

Which was how he spent his third and fourth days in Wayne mannor. Well, it totaled to a week, majority of spent by Bruce teaching him how wrong he was.

After that, though, he accepted defeat, if only so they could take care of the club and he could go home. Which was easier said than done. It was apparently run by a pair of nymphs who were too happy with their work to close down shop. So, force was administered, and they managed to fix their little issue, righting any lingering problems.

Kent expected that to be the end of that. When he found out he had another week booked off sometime later in the month, however, he reconsidered that stance. With the looks being sent, doubly so. He was in over his head, and that was pretty damn well enough for him if the results were anything like the last week.

For once, he was glad he was so wrong.


	6. Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves (Jim/Kent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Universe where Kent is a Gypsy.

He had been raised by his mother, raised as a gypsy. As a result, he took after her. His form thin and graceful, he took to wearing the skirts, and moved easily no matter what he wore. He joined the band, playing whatever instrument they wanted him to, or he danced to their tune. He used minor magics, creating shimmering effects and other sort of minor enhancements that helped lure in the crowds.

His father was off doing things like going into ancient pyramids. He was a treasure hunter, while his mother danced for the money. They had met at a show, and he ended up traveling with them. He loved her. They only parted when he had a lead on some important discovery, which he would go off and chase until he found money or treasure or both. He provided for them as best as he could.

It was during a particular show that the law enforcers had shown up. His mother had been shot by accident while reading Tarot cards. He ran, but it was rather futile. He wouldn't even make it a meter. But then he was being lifted off his feet and onto a horse. The man who had joined up their caravan, Gentleman Ghost, smiled at him then whipped up the reigns in order to get the horse to go faster. They raced off, and he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up.

He stayed by the door as the gentleman got them a room. They would have to find a new place. He followed the other upstairs. And then shortly, went back down. He spoke with the innkeeper, and got a spot in the show. He made his way to the front and danced as he was used to, listening to the phantom music that filled the room. " _Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves. We'd hear it from the people of the town. They'd call us Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves._ " he sang along lowly, twirling with an array of sparkling lights conjured from nothing. " _But every night the men of the town would come around. And lay their money down._ "

Jim smiled at him as he bowed. He'd payed for their room and dinner for the night. In fact, the Innkeeper said that they could probably stay as long as they wanted so long as he performed. They made a name for themselves and the bar. 'The Dancing Lady' Inn was often talked about. And while he danced, the ghost up and vanished. To return with a small collection of money or jewels. He enchanted and lured in those with hearts too big to know what to do about. Still, he kept his eyes on the dancer who he shared a life with.

Only when the law came for them again did they take off into the night with a new horse. They charmed their way into a new place. But this time, they were caught much quicker. Word was spreading of the dancing lady and the dashing ghost. Gypsies, tramps and thieves.

However, they did eventually reach a place. A bar filled with the strange and the interesting. And he danced. And they were welcomed. The Oblivion bar welcomed him, with his magic and allure. And his Gentleman was welcome to stay as long as he did. Eventually, he had made a name for himself in the show. A main liner. His Gentleman continued his ways outside of the bar until they were able to settle down.

"Kent Nelson." he heard his name. A name he hadn't heard in so long. Not even from the lips of his specter lover. The man wore a costume making him look like a bat. The others were regulars to the bar. The man used to be a police officer. Detective Corrigan. The other was only known as the 'Phantom Stranger'. It was he who had spoken. "We need your help."

He laughed, hitting the tambourine off his hip. "I don't do private parties." he replied teasingly. "Or foursomes. I'm a taken lady." he joked, winking. Then, seeing their faces, he sighed, getting off the stage. He waved off the bartender and bouncer. "Look, I'm only a dancer. Whatever you want... There are others better suited to do what you want."

"It's about your father." He inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. Then he glanced to the side. "Will you at least listen to us? Hear us out?" The man in the bat suit asked. Kent sighed, but nodded, following them to a booth. "Your father, Sven... He found something in a temple. A blue helm. It came to possess him. At first, it wasn't doing any harm. But now he's begun a life of crime. We need your help. Someone he knows to help him fight the helm's influence." They explained.

Kent fiddled with his hands. "...I... I don't know if he'll even recognize me. Let alone stop for me. And beyond that, I'd have to ask my love. We are together in what we do." he stated. Eventually, he got them to let him go and he sought out Jim. "...It's about my father. They know where he is. But he's under some sort of spell from a magic helmet or something. I have to go help them." The Gentleman hummed. "...Will I go alone, or do you intend to join me?"

Craddock rose to his feet. "To let my miss go alone would be against my nature. Of course I will accompany you." he replied. He took Kent's arm and led him outside. The three were waiting. Then the detective pointed at the Ghost. "Oh, no need to be rude, detective. I do what I do simply because I must." he noted, then dodged a punch. "Come now, Detective. This is unbecoming of you." he added.

"Spectre." Phantom Stranger intoned, grabbing the other. "We have more important work... Come." He opened his cloak and they found themselves in a desert. In the distance, a tomb. Kent could feel the energy, and felt it seeping into his skin. He left the others behind. "Wait!" The stranger called, but Kent was already on his way.

He stopped only when he saw the man in blue and gold land. "...Father?" he asked. The other paused, turning to face him. "...Sven...? Is that you?" he approached cautiously. The man seemed frozen in place. "...It's me. I-it's Kent. ...It's y-your son." he murmured, reaching out to cup his father's face. "...This thing... It's not good for you. It's taken you away. ...Did you even know Mother had died?" He watched him recoil, making a pained noise. "...Take it off. Please."

Sven wrenched the helm from his head, throwing it to the sand. "Kent?!" He exclaimed. Then he rushed forwards, embracing him tightly. Hugging his father, the younger Nelson quietly sobbed. "Kent... I-I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have been there for you and your mother... H-how have you been?"

"He's been fine." Jim input, lifted the helm with his cane. "He took to dancing. There were a few close calls, but I made sure we both got out of harms way." He offered the helm to the Phantom Stranger, who shook his head and gestured to Kent. Kent took the helm, frowning. The blue bled out, and suddenly it took on a golden hue. Jim watched as his lover put on the helm, then gasped in quiet awe as the other's attire changed.

He turned briefly to face the other three. "I must thank you for assisting me to my Fate." he intoned softly. "...Father, Jim," he waved his hand to create a portal. "...This way. Let's go home." He said, voice conveying the warmth his face couldn't. He led them through, lightly jangling.


End file.
